


What Happens in Minanter Hollow....

by aelie, MaryDragon



Series: The Pillars of Creation [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Iron Bull - Freeform, Krem - Freeform, Letters, Spoilers for Keep to the Stars, The Chargers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelie/pseuds/aelie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryDragon/pseuds/MaryDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the Earth treasure's found in Gaspard's crate was a cookbook with the name of a person, the name of a tavern, and the name of small town in the Free Marches. Gwen was hopeful that maybe another person from home survived Gaspard's purge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orders from the Nightingale and a Letter of Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Keep to the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651176) by [MaryDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryDragon/pseuds/MaryDragon). 



> For context, see MaryDragon's [Keep to the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4651176/chapters/10609854).
> 
> Read to at least chapter 49 before you start. Otherwise, this will make ZERO sense.
> 
> All letters from Gwen are written by MaryDragon.

Find out what you can about a Tempie Smith at the Three Horseshoes in Minanter Hollow. If she lives, deliver the enclosed. Send a full report back as soon as possible.

Nightingale

**

_[Letter attached to Nightingale’s orders]_

 

To Ms Tempie Smith of The Three Horseshoes

Let me first apologize for the shock you must feel upon seeing these letters in this world. I am unsure if you have had the opportunity to learn to write in the alphabet they use here, but even if you had, this is the best way to ensure no one could intercept my words to you.

So, hi.

My name is Gwen. I’m originally from Iowa, but I was living south of Boston when ~~shit hit the fan~~ when I was given the opportunity to move here. I have a place with the Inquisition, and we have a stronghold in the Frostback Mountains, called Skyhold. I hope you are safe in Minanter Hollow, but if not, you are welcome to relocate to Skyhold. 

There was a threat in Orlais against people like us – people from Earth – and I hope you stayed clear of it. I only know you even exist because we found a three-ring binder that bears your information. ~~Also, this is the single most amazing recipe for chicken and dumplings ever and I don’t care if you’re mad at me I have it copied down and locked away.~~ I did not send the binder with these scouts because they’re just on a search mission and not to be weighed down with all the belongings of the people they’re hoping to locate. If you are alive and well, and would like your binder returned, you can either come to Skyhold or send a letter back with these scouts. If there is anything else you brought to Thedas that you might have lost in the time since you arrived, please send me a description and I will return it to you if I am able.

Sincerely,  
Gwendolyn Rhiannon Murray  
Inquisition Infirmary Chief - Skyhold


	2. A Report and A Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scouts report back and Tempie replies.

Nightingale -

Tempie Smith lives and the message was delivered. She is married to the son of the landlord at the Three Horseshoes, and practically runs the place. It seems she came to the village seven years ago with a band of Tal-Vashoth that had been hired to deal with some bandits on the road to Starkhaven. Word is she was found wandering the Wildervale road a few miles south of town with two large bags and speaking only Qunlat. She and one of the mercenaries stayed behind when the contract was completed - something about her not being a fighter and the mercenary (a former Sten, I hear) wanted to stop fighting. She apparently had experience with pubs and was hired to work at the Three Horseshoes with her Tal-Vashoth friend (he's called Bee-vo – not sure exactly what it was. T says she gave him the name but there’s some context we’re missing). She married Cade Bannerman a few months later. Depending on sources, it's either a love match or she's trying to get her grubby hands on the pub. Observation would suggest the former. She is currently with child, due either in late Solace or early August. General opinion is either that she has odd ways of doing things, but the Three Horseshoes has never done so well, or that she is a shrew and an outsider trying to disrupt a perfectly good village. There's not many neutral opinions. She said she would be replying to the message on her own, and did not tell me the contents, so I can't really guess what the answer might be. Or even what the question is.

Personal observations: she could be a useful asset to the Inquisition. Minanter Hollow is the crossroads for trade between Tantervale, Starkhaven, and Wildervale, and the Three Horseshoes is the favored lodgings for a great number of merchants. The inn rarely has vacancies, and the clientele is a potential goldmine of intelligence. Please advise on whether to approach about creating an outpost in the village.

Nil

**

_[Written in English]_  
Gwen -

This is the fifth time I've started this letter, and I don't really know what to say beyond a statement that my being shocked is a motherfucking understatement. The only thing I’ve read in English for the past seven years has been my recipe book – which holy shit I’m glad you have it. I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do to my friends, apparently. I was dead sure someone in the village had taken it. Not everyone in the village is fond of me, and there are some I wouldn’t put it past. I’m kinda surprised to hear that there are people in Orlais (is that really how you spell it??) trying to kill us. Who the hell kicked that hornet’s nest? I mean, I threw some Orlasean (sp?) tosh out of my inn for insulting my elven staff. Do they kill for something like that? Do let me know so I can hire more security before I do that again. As far as I know, no one’s tried to actually kill me yet, but I’ve let my friend Bevo know. He was a sten and can knock a few heads around if they need knocking.

I’m gonna have to turn down the invite to Skyhold – I’ve got a baby coming in a few months and I’m not very mobile. But I’d like to reserve the rights to visit sometime? I desperately want to meet people from home again. I’m originally from Houston, but was in New York on the way to Paris for an apprenticeship when, well, you know.

I like to think I’ve settled quite nicely here, though I guess I always knew this day would eventually come. I was told to bring comfort, so maybe I was only brought so you could get your hands on Granny Temp’s chicken and dumplings. By all means, copy whatever recipes you want, but do try to keep them relatively secure. I’ve got to keep some edge on the competition here. When you’ve copied all you want, please do send the binder back. I’m having to cook from memory, and it’s not working out quite as well as I’d like.

Please write back. I’ve missed having someone who understands.

Tempie Bannerman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo first posted fanfic in nearly a decade. Pardon while I go FREAK OUT over here.


	3. An Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen replies after It's All Over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!  
> Aelie has posted a short story with Tempie! Go check it out!

Dear Tempie,

I sent your binder back with this letter. If you did not get it back, the courier is not mine and you should have Bevo intercede immediately. I will seek to include a similar safeguard with every letter, so if something is missing or otherwise amiss you will have warning of foul play.

I will encourage you to avoid Orlesians as much as possible. They have a definite Game of Thrones sort of vibe to them. One in particular was dead-set on killing every Qunlat-speaking human he could get his hands on. (Emphasis on was. Inquisitor Adaar removed him from the gene pool.) Most of the people he caught were Viddathari; Bevo can explain that better, and I have better uses for this letter. 

CONGRATULATIONS! Oh, I am so happy you found love and a chance to start over. Did you come here from that terrible day in September? I am only asking because I found a woman who had not come to Thedas until February, and I hope to get more information about our world. I might become a pillar of salt, but I can’t help but look back. I left too much behind not to wonder.

I am going to recommend to Charter (our new Seneschal) that some amount of Inquisition presence be maintained in Minanter Hollow. I don’t have enough English-speaking pen pals that I’m willing to lose one. When you decide to come visit Skyhold, we’ll get you a nondescript escort, just to be safe. And, actually… do you have a decent midwife there? And, if not… maybe I could do? I’ve been looking for some Stepping practice, after all. 

Your (Hopeful) Friend,  
Gwen

PS I have to ask… Had you heard of Thedas before you were brought here?

*

Charter,  
Leliana was still in residence when these letters went out. Did she brief you on our efforts to find others from my home world? Is this something we should discuss over the war table, or will tea on my roof with some balefire suffice? I am not above bribery.  
-Gwen


	4. A Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holy shit that got dark fast.

[ _There are a few splotches which are obviously tear stains_ ]

 

Gwen - 

I apologize for taking so long to get back to you. Your letter threw me for a rather large loop. I did come here on that day, and in the seven years I’ve been here, I have never truly thought on what happened after. I guess I just assumed that everyone died and that was that. The idea that things continued on even after what happened is horrifying, to say the least. I’m almost afraid to ask, but what did happen? Do you know which cities in particular were destroyed? My parents were flying back to Houston when it happened. I wonder if they ever landed. So, yes. I’ve been a bit shaken to write for the last few days.

As for what was going on that day: I finished my Grand Diplôme from the Cordon Bleu Paris in June, and had gotten an apprenticeship at a three-star restaurant in Paris that was to start in October. I went home for a month to finish packing what I had left when I first went to Paris in 2014, and was on my way back. I had to route through NYC anyway, so Mom, Dad, and I decided to spend a few days there before I left for months on end. Their plane left for Houston about an hour before I arrived at La Guardia. I didn’t even make it in the door.

Sorry for the smudges. I have spent the last seven years shoving everything about home into a small corner of my brain, throwing rose petals on it, singing “lalalala, nothing to see here.” Between finding you and thinking about what I’m possibly going to tell this kid someday, it’s been a rough few weeks.

I did receive my binder back - thank you. My mom and aunts put it together for me before I left for Paris the first time as a way to take home with me. Obviously, it’s unspeakably precious to me.

About this Orlesian killing anyone speaking English - what exactly did we do to piss him off? I mean, most Orlesians I know are relatively decent folk, but considering  [ my first interaction with Orlesian nobility ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6572959/chapters/15039313) , perhaps I’d be better off not knowing.

ALTHO - I heard tale of the Inquisitor ripping someone in half at the Satinalia ball this year? Was that true? Did you go? And what is this “Herald of Andraste” business? I heard that it was someone named Gwen, but surely that can’t be you? I don’t really understand the religion here, despite my mother-in-law’s best efforts.

I’d be fine with some Inquisition presence. Y’all are pretty popular out here, and getting an official endorsement from the Savior of the World would probably not hurt anything financially. And I would be glad for some more security. There’s been a lot of rumbles from Tevinter, and I would be lying to say it didn’t make our little village a little nervous.

Speaking of nervous, have I mentioned that I’m kind of fucking terrified of childbirth here? Three women I’ve known have died in childbirth while I’ve been here as well as a horrific number of small children, and that even with the addition of my limited medical knowledge. They were slow and lingering deaths that in a hospital, wouldn’t have happened. So, yes, I’d appreciate any help, though isn’t Skyhold nearly a month’s travel away? And we have no way of knowing exactly when Squirt will get here, so your absence would be a substantial chunk of time. Are you sure about that? (Were you a doctor back home? I meant to ask that last time) Goody Ross is a very good midwife and I’ve helped her a few times, but, again, she’s pretty limited in medical knowledge. Either way, I’ve already made out my will and I’m starting to compile family stories in case I and/or the kid don’t make it. I also have my photo collage on a small table that I’ll leave with a description. I want him/her to know about where s/he comes from. I would also ask that if you meet him/her and I’m gone, tell him/her all about home. If you ever figure out a way to get a charge, I have a laptop and a phone with loads of other pictures of the family.

Wow, that escalated quickly. I should probably write something happy here so the letter doesn’t end on a depressing as shit note. Uh… my sister-in-law Rhona is going to marry the local cobbler, Dirk! Cade has four sisters and three brothers, all younger, and Rhona is the youngest girl and the last to marry. I like Dirk and am quite fond of Rhona, so it’s definitely a happy thing. My father-in-law Ewan was just about in tears when Dirk asked his permission. Rhona is his favorite, and he’s been seriously worried that she wouldn’t find someone that would make her happy. Catrina (Cade’s mom) and I are going into full party-planning mode and it’s going to be AWESOME. So, yes. Happy!

Write back soon,

Tempie

  
P.S. Er…. I had not heard of Thedas before? Did you?


	5. An Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen attempts to clarify some things.

Dear Tempie,

I don’t have a lot of information yet about what happened after we left. That question is part of the reason why I am devoting the time and resources to find other survivors and determine how and when we came to Thedas. You are not the only one I’ve found, but to date the only person who came after the 25th of September was a woman who lived across the street from my brother, in Iowa. She stayed in the U.S. until mid-February. ~~She was already dead~~ Gaspard got to her before I could, and all the information I have from her, I got off her cell phone.

From what I can tell, we did what we always do after a national tragedy – continue on as if nothing happened, out of spite if need be. The main focus of the nuclear attack was the East Coast; everything from D.C. to Boston is a total loss. I know there were attacks of opportunity in other places, as well; Paris and Las Vegas are confirmed to my knowledge, although the extent of the damage and casualties is beyond what I’ve learned. As I find more people and put together a better picture, I will keep you informed, if you want.

I don’t know what there is to be gained from looking back. But as of February, my family in Iowa was alive. I’m not sure if that makes things easier or harder for me, much less you.

I keep looking for ways to lighten this letter and I’m failing. So I guess I’ll put all the heavy stuff in one place and then start over anew with another letter with happier thoughts.

Hellen Adaar is the Inquisitor, and she does have a history of ripping people in half. We were at Halamshiral for Satinalia this year, and she did publicly execute a couple of people, although I believe they were imploded with the power of the anchor, rather than ripped in half. Hellen is this incredible mix of light and dark. She’s got a hell of a temper, and she will outright murder people, but her specialty as a mage is in healing. I’ve been teaching her Western Medicine – I was a registered nurse back home, to answer your other question – and she’s synthesizing science with magic in a way that lets her heal things I have never seen a cure for before.

Which brings me to the another bit that’s hard to write. The woman who brought me here – whom I assume brought all of us here – is Andraste, the Prophet around whom the Chantry was founded. She’s kind of a big deal. Long story short, she’s set me up as her Herald and is using me to fix some things that went wrong. It feels really weird to write about. I’m not a mage, she didn’t make me so I could use magic or anything, but I can do some weird stuff with the Fade and I can See things that nobody else can. This is impossible to explain in writing, I sound like a lunatic.

Anyways. Andraste planted a bunch of information about Thedas into our culture, to prepare as many of us as she could for the transition to this world. And she did it in a video game. Well, a series of video games. You know how the centuries here are called ages? And the Divine names each Age as it dawns? Well, we’re currently about forty years into the Dragon Age.

…which is what the game series was called. All the events of the last forty years, more or less, were laid out in these games. So when I was brought over, I thought I was hallucinating. Qunari and elves and magic and the Fade and all of this was clearly a coma dream because I’d hit my head. It was very hard for me to come to grips with. But it got me the initial title of _Seer_ because I showed up at the beginning of the events of the third game, and I knew what was coming. It’s a more accurate title now that Andraste made me her Herald in truth but… yeah. We’re living in a video game.

All that stuff about nerds running the world? Bill Gates doesn’t have anything on this.

There’s more to write. So much more to write. But I’m going to end this now and start a new, with a more positive mindset. I don’t want to expect melancholy when I am writing to you.

Love,

Gwen

  


*

  


Dear Tempie,

Did I mention how happy I was to learn that you’d married and settled into a family here? That’s so lovely to hear, you have no idea. I’ve got a great thing going here, with dear friends and a found family and a good man, named Cullen. It’s a little hard to believe that I could have something so thoroughly _good_ after… well, after losing everything. But it does give me Faith.

And you have a baby on the way! That’s so exciting! When are you due? It is an awful long way from here to there, but I’ve got a means of moving a bit quicker than anyone else. I would need to send somebody I know there first, and once I found them it would be relatively simple to travel there myself. I need the practice, anyways.

Also, if it eases your mind, I came through with my husband’s bug-out bag. He was an OIF/OEF vet and never got rid of the hypervigilance he brought home from the war. I had most of my nursing gear, our emergency medical equipment, and one of those portable solar panel chargers. It works with the sun here and it’s how I’ve kept my phone charged. I’ve been introducing the people here to the music of home. In fact, that’s how you would be able to know whether or not someone actually knows me, if they approach you at home. If they know the lyrics to some completely inappropriate, anachronistic English song, they’re one of mine.

Krem will want me to ask… what kind of music did you listen to? And, perhaps more importantly, did you bring any with you? The pictures are important, but the Chargers will do anything for you in exchange for a little rock and roll.

Anyways. I’ve got some brilliant scientists here, who are really amazing at blending science and magic. In addition to the penicillan I brought with me (yes! I have penicillan!), I’ve been working with Dagna to produce antibiotics that are simpler to brew from an alchemical standpoint. I’ve developed a hell of a kit of local medicines, but more importantly, we’re coming up with things that don’t require a fully equipped laboratory to brew.

I can’t be everywhere, and I can’t save everyone. But at this point, if you think I’m letting anybody else deliver your baby, you’re insane.

Write back with your due date and we’ll come up with a plan!

Love,

Gwen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry for the delay. Casa Aelie temporarily turned into the SS Aelie with all of the flooding and it's been a wild week, with more rain on the way. OH BOY.)


	6. A Slew of Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tempie expresses some doubts.

Dearest Gwen -

I’ve spent the last few days trying desperately to phrase this in a way that would not sound mean or nasty or insulting to your religious beliefs, but I’ve pretty much failed at tact. Therefore I will say, lbr, you sound like a total whackadoodle. At the risk of sounding like a total bitch, you actually believe all the magic and mages casting spells mumbo-jumbo? I'd expect a native to believe, but someone from our world? (Wow that came out super bitchy. Therefore time to change the subject.) I never heard of Dragon Age at home - between ballet and school, I never had time for video games. I'm having a lot of trouble believing all of this could be a video game though. We may have to just have this conversation face-to-face, because as I said at the start of this letter: whackadoodle.

And now to more important things:  YOU HAVE A WAY TO CHARGE PHONES???!!!  _ AND LISTEN TO MUSIC??? _ (Who is Krem?) I can't promise having much of anything on my phone. I listened almost exclusively to Spotify. I think I have an audio book on there too? But I do have a 2TB external hard drive that hooks up to my laptop with a metric ton of movies and music. It's mostly classical, classic rock, and old country, but I distinctly remember having the entire Beatles discography, a ton of Bach and Mozart, and most of Tchaikovsky’s ballets. Movie-wise, I remember having a lot of classics from the 30s-60s, most of Disney's animated stuff, and Star Wars. My sister was a huge movie nerd and ripped them all for me before I left. If these Chargers (who are they?) like rock and roll that much, they're welcome here any time. Charge my phone and I'll teach them “Wouldn't It Be Nice.” It was my mom's ringtone, so I know it's on there. Ditto the Imperial March, because of course it's Dad's ringtone. 

The Inquisitor sounds freaking awesome, if not slightly terrifying. I would call shenanigans on literally tearing people in half if I hadn't seen Bevo angry enough to do just that before. But I am confused. How does one implode someone with an anchor? People say Adaar has an anchor in her hand - is it, like, impaled on it? Does she tie people to it and implode them underwater? I am very confuzzled, pls clarify. 

I am so excited at the idea of you coming here. Like I've said before, Goody Ross is a good enough midwife, but having an actual RN on hand? Yes pls and thank you. And you're working on medicine? I'll give you food recipes in exchange for medicinal recipes. Too many people here die of ridiculously easy to remedy things, and it's been awful knowing something could be done, but not knowing exactly what. 

But enough about that. You asked for details. Supposedly I'm due at the end of August or early Kingsway. More than that I can't tell you because I don't know myself. I would be overjoyed to have you be here. Although I warn you that I think my MIL would absolutely freak out. I haven't told her that I'm corresponding with the Herald yet, mainly because I'd think she'd have a coronary. She's been trying to find out everything she can about you ever since the public proclamation from the Divine arrived. I have to admit it's kind of creepy watching people almost literally worship you, but I guess you're used to that now. 

Anyways. Go ahead and send whoever or whatever you need. Your Seneschal’s been in touch, and the Inquisition has a number of rooms paid for already (which btw thank you. Besides the money from the rooms y'all have rented, having the Inquisitorial seal of approval has done MAGIC to demand. We were hardly ever vacant before, but now we’ve got a wait list.). 

I'm so glad you've built your life back as well. You'll have to tell me all about your life at Skyhold. It sounds way more interesting than our tiny village. Is it as big as they say it is? We're told it's basically the size of a small city. A few of the local boys set out for Skyhold months ago to join y'all’s army - I'm assuming they made it. We haven't heard anything to the contrary, at least. Graham,Cade’s youngest brother,  desperately wanted to go, but changed his mind when he heard about y'all’s policy on accepting elves. He's a massive racist and dare I say, he's kind of a proto-Nazi. I can't tell you how many times I've had to have Cade or Bevo get him to stop harassing Walker and especially Lena (she’s one of our housekeepers and is married to a human. There was a HUGE kerfuffle in the village when it happened, and Graham has never forgiven me for allowing them to work and live here). So, now he wants to be a big bad merc. Basically, the boy’s looking to do some violence, and I’m afraid that he’ll start something here if we don’t get him out of here soon. But enough about that asshole. You mentioned a man - Cullen? Tell me about him! And is it true Varric Tethras is there? Cade and I have read all his books and are big fans.  ~~ Could we maybe get an autograph?  ~~

I’d better actually send this letter before the Summerday festival starts up this week. We’re going to be even more swamped than normal, so I won’t have any time to add to this letter anyways.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Tempie

PS - I translate these letters to Cade, and he asked what an Imperial March sounded like. I sang some of it, and he just shrugs and says,  _ [written in Common] _ “Sounds Orlesian.” I liked to have died laughing. He has no clue.


	7. A Reproof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen is less than pleased with Tempie.

Dear Tempie,

Magic is not a religious belief. I’m not talking about Wicca or the miracles Catholic saints must perform prior to beatification. I am talking Gandalf, Zeddicus Zul Zoriander, Belgarath and Dumbledore here. The fact that you, yourself, were _transported to a pre-Industrial world_ the same day as me but arrived years prior, should be a sign that there’s something going on beyond the capabilities of modern technology. Dragons are real, here. Magic is real, here. Demons are real, here. Monsters that live deep underground are real, here. Why would there be qunari and dwarves and elves and no magic?

  
No, darling, the only whackadoodle here is you. Pulling an ostrich and putting your head in the sand in Thedas is a great way to get yourself killed. _Especially_ with how close you are to Tevinter. That country is literally ruled by magic. You have to be a mage to be a part of the noble class.  

  
That said, the effective birth rate of mages is something like 1% and it seems to have some kind of genetic link, or at least a familial tendency. You’re far enough out in BFE that you likely haven’t seen a mage – or, if you did, they made sure you didn’t know about it. There’s been a war for the last year or two between Templars and mages… I can only be glad you _don’t_ know about magic where you are, because it means the atrocities of that conflict bypassed your town.

 

Anyways. All of that said, Hellen is like Bevo crossed with Minerva McGonagal. She’s smart, she’s reserved, and she will _fuck you up_ . I love her to pieces, she’s the absolute best. The _anchor_ is a literal green glowing mark on her left hand that gives her a connection to the Veil. She’s kind of like an exorcist. She’s able to banish demons, which has been really handy of late. See also: crazy ass magical war.

 

Anyways. It will take longer to get there than this letter, but I’m sending you a copy of The Tale of the Champion, signed by Varric. When I told him where you were from he immediately whipped out a copy and wrote something cheeky in the front cover. Is there anything else you guys want from here? Maybe something for Cade’s mother?  I’ll be subtle when I arrive – let’s aim for early August, shall we? – to keep your mother-in-law’s freak out to a minimum. What time of day could I show up and not cause a commotion? If I need to pop in at midnight I will.

 

Cullen is a former Templar. That means it was his job to police mages and he is trained in suppressing magic. They have completely different jobs in Tevinter, although they have the same name, so I’m not sure what your opinion of them would be. Cullen quit the order when everything went to shit, and became Commander of the Inquisition forces. He’s tall, blond, built like a brick shithouse, and has abs I could do my laundry on. He’s Ferelden, so he’s a dog person, and a total workaholic. He taught me to read, and learned Qunlat so that he could hear more about our world and he is just. He’s the best. And I’m really glad nobody knows how to read English script because he would kill me for gushing about sweet he is. But he was my very best friend and we had a little book club going and he was so very respectful before I realized my husband, Patrick, had died in the September attacks before I left home. Did I mention that I’m a widow? It’s getting easier all the time, every day… mostly because Cullen lets me honor Patrick’s memory. I think that’s the highest praise I could give a man.

 

Enjoy Summerday!

  
Gwen

 

PS it is SO creepy to have anybody do anything even remotely similar to worship me. Luckily I’m surrounded by people who’ve seen me at my worst and will keep me humble. Ha!

 

*

 

Bull,

Rocky has gained a stone since the coronation of Divine Victoria. I am sending the Chargers on a training mission. I will be _on the move_ so I will be temporarily beyond your protection. Attached is a dossier with a recommended travel route. While I bow to your judgement in the training needs of your crew, it would be good for morale to follow my lead on this one. Twitch, in particular, would love the food at the Three Horseshoes. Forward me your projected budget and time frame and I’ll get you supplied.

Gwen


	8. A Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't quite right in the Minanter valley.
> 
> ((words like this are written in Common out in the margins))

Gwen -

I’m beginning to think that your coming here might be a bad idea just now. Summerday has changed everything, and of course, my asshole brother-in-law is involved. It seems that on the third night of the festival (it lasts five days), one of the bargemen with Liam’s barges (he runs one of the larger shipping companies on the Minanter - he’s got some old beef with my father-in-law, so he’s not our biggest fan) got so smashed that even the madame over at the ~~Secluded Nuns~~ ~~Lonely Nuns~~ ~~Closed Nuns~~ Dammit, I can’t translate this too well. In Common, it’d be (( _The Cloistered Sisters))_. It’s the local red light district. ANYWAYS. This bargemen from Liam’s company got completely smashy drunk and got a bit handsy with some of the ladies (at least, that’s what I’m hearing). Bonnie, the madame over at the brothel, kicked him out, and then kicked out his friends, who protested being their buddy getting booted. So they decided instead that BRILLIANT IDEA, let's go have "fun" in the Alienage. A whole bunch of other drunk idiots, including my BIL Graham, decided this would be fun and joined them. Needless to say, the residents of the Alienage were less than pleased and fought back. It turned into quite the ruckus and the town guard and the council had to step in. Thankfully, they sided with the elves and threw most of the offenders (Graham included) in jail to sit in time-out for a few days. 

Unfortunately, Liam and his fellow shipping "magnates" feel that they are being targeted by the council because so many of their men were locked away, making them short-handed on one of their busiest weeks. The councilors have tried their best to explain that you can't just go around trying to rape town citizens and expect to get away with it, but the shipping idiots are having none of it. They've decided instead to start boycotting the town completely. So now we're dealing with a shortage in ye basic supplies, like, you know, GRAIN, and a lot of whispers are brewing that it's the elves' fault for putting up a fight. Because of course they say that.

How that applies to you is that the Divine's new (newsletter? speech? I can't think of the English word) about elves being, you know, people has hit town at exactly the wrong moment. Human people are kind of ridiculously pissed off, and there are rumors coming in from those merchants that actually come through town is that the Herald has somehow brainwashed the Divine and most of the Chantry chiefs to accept this word _((An arrow from "this word" points to the word "heresy" written in Common))_ I can't translate because English is hard. And now we're starting to hear some really nasty things about how you're an  _((abomination from the Fade))_. The Reverend Mother is doing what she can to quash the rumors, but people are really freaking angry right now and don't want to hear anything about it. 

So, yes. Apparently you are the Big Bad Wolf that can brainwash people into thinking that elves have a right to be people too. The grumblings aren't much right now, but Ewan (Cade's dad - I told him I was writing to you last week when this whole mess cropped up) says that you just showing up one day could be trouble. Do with that as you will. For what it's worth, I'm extremely angry that these idiots are ruining a chance for me to see someone from home. Bastards.

 

Let me know what you're going to do - 

Tempie

 

PS - TOTALLY FELT BABY MOVE WHILE WRITING THIS. WHOA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this has taken so long. I got this crazy notion in my head last month to start up my own business, and it's been insane getting it up and running ASAP. On top of that, PPD has shown it's hideous mug, but treatment is being had and please God it'll let up soon. That being said, I can't guarantee anything more for awhile. It's not for lack of desire! <333333


	9. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tempie finally finds she's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooooo narrative!

_ Tempie, _

_ The man carrying this letter is capable of reading it. His name is Twitch, but a long time ago he was a boy from upstate New York named Will. You can trust him with your life, and you can pass him notes in English if you need to give him information secretly. _

_ Your last letter came after the Chargers had set out for Minanter Hollow. It’s a hell of a trip, across the Waking Sea and all, and it’ll take them awhile to arrive. I am writing this response and sending it ahead to be delivered by hand. Hopefully, by the time they arrive, Josephine has pulled some strings and gotten the boycott lifted. I asked her to try to make it seem like we weren’t involved, but she couldn’t promise not to leave any trace. Here’s hoping. If there is anything you need fixed, the Chargers are a small army and can move mountains – probably literally. _

_ I understand your concern and the politics of the town. Given Hellen is currently in the Deep Roads and communications are hazy, I’ve got a rare moment of autonomy. I can’t promise you that me Stepping up to Minanter wouldn’t cause a riot – there’s too many Decisions between now and then, to be made by too many people for me to See it clearly – but I can tell you that I am fully capable of being incognito. People don’t expect me to look like I do, and the Chargers can be discrete. _

_ If you think I’m going to risk one of the few Americans on this damn rock in unattended childbirth because of some idiotic anti-elven politics, you’ve got another thought coming. Once the Chargers are there, you can get a message to me every day as opposed to every however many weeks these letters take. Like I said, Twitch is one of us aliens and can be trusted with modern concepts. Stitches, the Chargers’ healer, studied with me for months and can keep you and the baby safe, as well as make the executive decision to call for me if something looks sketchy. _

_ Gwen _

_ P.S. Twitch has a present for you. Don’t get too attached, I want it back! _

  
  


*

 

The Chargers stopped some distance up the river from Minanter Hollow, cognizant of the tensions in the town. Gwen’s sudden appearance in camp some three weeks earlier, to hand Twitch a letter and deliver a stern warning not to upset the delicate politics of the region, still weighed heavily on everyone’s mind.

The letter Twitch was to deliver had been offered up to Bull and steamed open within five minutes of Gwen Stepping back to Skyhold. The scowl on the Chief’s face was enough to cause most of the Chargers to find someplace else to be. Twitch, ever the shitstarter, had leaned over the new Tal’Vashoth’s shoulder to see what the problem was and promptly made everything worse by bursting out laughing.

“You can’t read English,” Twitch chortled, whipping the paper out of the Iron Bull’s hands. “I won’t translate it into Common, but I can read it to you.”

Bull sighed and gestured for his long-time soldier to make good on the offer.

As Twitch reached the end of the reading, Krem called out a question before Bull had a chance to mull over the contents. “What’s the present?”

Twitch grinned at the Lieutenant. “If I told you, you’d break it.”

“I would do no such thing,” Krem complained.

“You would, and when we get there you’ll understand,” Twitch countered. 

Bull had questions to ask and parts of the letter he needed reread, so the fun part of the conversation ended there. They’d continued on to Jader, where they took ship to Cumberland and then marched north into Nevarra. Josephine - with liberal use of Cassandra’s name, most likely - had arranged for a ship to meet them when they reached the Minanter River, and they sailed into the Marches. 

They were far enough out of Minanter Hollow when they dropped camp for the last time that word of their presence shouldn’t reach the town before their scouting party could. At Gwen’s insistence, a five-human team made their way to the Three Horseshoes.

The town was angry. It had the feel of a beehive in late summer, when the bears are snuffling around and trying to fatten up for the winter. Everyone was  _ defensive _ , with stiff postures and expressions varying from wary to outright hostile. 

“How much worse would it be, if we’d brought Dalish or Skinner?” Twitch muttered to his Lieutenant. 

Krem had the lead, of course. Twitch stood, as always, to Krem’s right and one step behind. Stitches was a mandatory inclusion, and the rear was brought up by Siren and Grim. 

There were still some three hours of daylight left when Krem popped open the door and gestured for Twitch to enter the tavern first.

There was a barmaid hard at work not ten paces from the door - black hair, green eyes, body that wouldn’t quit - and Twitch sauntered up to her with a smile. “Ella, I presume?” he asked, with as much kindness in his tone as he could manage.

Rather than answer, the elf turned on her heel and dashed into the kitchen.

“Good job, asshole,” Siren chided as the door swung shut behind her.

“Real smooth,” Krem agreed.

“Look, I know what I’m doing,” Twitch insisted, both hands up in protest. “Just gimme a-”

The kitchen door swung open again, to admit what could only be Bevo. 

Luckily, they were Chargers. They knew how to fight a qunari, and they weren’t immediately intimidated by one.

“Bevo!” Twitch called happily, and then rattled off in the English, “I’ve got a message for the lady of the house from a fellow alien.”

As Bevo paused, considering, the lady in question appeared slowly from behind the looming pastry chef. She had thick brown hair and bright blue eyes, but as far as Twitch was concerned, it was the modern dentistry that gave her away. That, and the baby bump.

Twitch swept an elaborate bow as he intoned formally in Common, “My lady Tempie, I come bearing a gift from my mother, who claims to have grown up relatively close to you.”

Tempie looked at him in confusion. “What?”

Twitch grinned. “Is there someplace we could speak? Privately?”

It took a little urging, but Tempie waved for the unbeknownst-to-her Chargers to follow her through a few twists and turns in the building to a little office in the back. Bevo was ever-looming, and out of respect for her confusion, only Krem and Twitch tagged along. Siren, Grim, and Stitches pulled up stools at the bar and launched into conversation with the proprietor, Cade.

Once he was sure they were in private, Twitch produced the thick fold of paper that was Gwen’s letter, and presented it to Tempie. As she read, he worked his way out of his leather and silverite armor, untucked his shirt, and revealed a thick black panel that had been strapped to his chest with long strips of bandages. With a flourish, the now-half-naked Charger handed the panel to Tempie.

“This, I believe, is to charge your laptop,” he said in English. “Got a sunny spot for a solar panel?”

Tempie gaped in shock. Her lips moved a few times, as if trying to form a response, but nothing came out but a small squeak. And then tears. So many tears. Krem stepped up and steadied her while Twitch sighed. “Shit. Sorry. Preggo, right? Right. I’m going to go… uh… your husband? I’ll get your husband, right? Maybe Siren. Jesus. Sorry.”

Tempie managed to nod and the Charger snagged his shirt and armor before sidling out of the room, whistling contentedly as he dressed himself on his way back to the bar. 

He’d done his duty to Gwen. Krem would relay any relevant information to the little Seeress that night when she once again stalked his dreams, but as far as he was concerned, Twitch was off the hook. 

As his promised reward was chicken and dumplings, his evening was looking pretty sweet indeed.

About fifteen minutes later, Tempie came back into the pub, her face scrubbed red. Without a word, she made a beeline for Twitch and gave him the biggest hug she could with her huge belly. “Thank you,” she whispered in English.

“Ah, wasn’t anything to thank me for,” he said with a laugh and returned the hug. “I’m just the messenger. You can thank our Ma.”

“No, no,” Tempie said as she stepped back, shaking her head. “Not for the present. For…” she gesticulated widely, “for  _ existing _ . I…I…” she visibly fought back tears again. With a sigh, she said, “I was beginning to think I’d dreamt everything about home.”

“Oh,” Twitch breathed with a slow nod, and then glanced around the tavern. “Is it… is this something you are okay to talk about out here? I mean… the Chargers all know. About you, about me, about Gwen, I mean. That’s Grim, he doesn’t talk. Siren’s been with me for years, that there’s Stitches, Ma mentioned him in the letter. And Krem’s the Chief’s Second. They all know - and love the music - but we were under the impression we couldn’t, ah, talk about it around here?”

Tempie looked around. “These are pretty much all regulars,” she said in English. “They’re used to me babbling off in ‘that weird language.’ I do it with Bevo all the time. It should be fine as long as it’s English.” She looked around again. “That and about 75% of the clientele here right now is related to my husband.” She nodded at a man sitting in the corner, who was giving them a weird look. “What, Dirk,” she called out in Common, “you ain’t never seen me talk horn-men?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Only every damn day! It ain’t natural!”

“Yeah,” Tempie called back, “That’s what Rhona said about you in bed!”

Another regular chimed in, “What were you doing with your sister-in-law in bed, Tempie?"

“Something unnatural, I’ll bet,” sniped another.

“You kidding?” countered Tempie.  “That girl  _ is _ a natural.  Didn’t take her long to catch on at all.”

“That’s right, Tempie, you show her the ropes.”

A good number of the clientele laughed as Dirk rolled his eyes again and returned to his drink. Tempie turned back to Twitch. “Just don’t look like you’re talking about weird shit and they’ll not think a thing of it,” she said in English. “Plenty of Rivaini merchants come through here and speak a lot of Qunlat.”

“Fair enough,” Twitch agreed with a laugh, mindful to match her choice of language. “I should note, then, that Krem learned Qunlat from the Chief, who is waiting not far outside of town with the rest of the Chargers. The other three only know bits and pieces from listening to Gwen for the last year. And you’re welcome… I’m pretty fond of existing.”

Tempie smiled warmly. “I have got a bajillion questions for you, but I’m going to assume that y’all need a place to stay tonight? We’re full up tonight, but almost everyone’s leaving tomorrow. I can have one of the staff bedrooms made up? And I’m willing to bet y’all’re hungry?”

Twitch looked at her with stars in his eyes. “I was promised chicken n’ dumplings.”

Tempie grimaced. “No can do. Sorry. We’ve got to save the flour for bread. But we’ve got-” 

She was interrupted as a older man burst in the front door. He looked pale and haggard, which set all of the locals in the room on edge.

“Da?” Cade asked from behind the bar, his brow furrowed.

“Ella. Marta,” the man said, gesturing to the two elven barmaids, who immediately put down what they were carrying. As they approached, he took them roughly by the arms and began muttering urgently. Whatever he said, the two girls looked terrified. They nodded assent to some unheard question and made quickly for the door.

“And girls?” the man said sharply. The two elves looked back over their shoulders. “Only what you can carry and  _ stop for nothing. _ Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they both said as they rushed outside. Cade’s father looked around the room until he spotted Dirk, who was now sitting up at attention. 

“Dirk!” he snapped. “Go get Rudy and Daisy. Get them here  _ now _ .” 

Dirk didn’t even hesitate to bolt out the door.

“The hell is going on, Ewan?” Tempie demanded.

Ewan hurried to Tempie. “Where’s the Inquisition?” he said quietly.

“Whisper and her group?” Tempie replied. “They’re up in their rooms. What is going on-”

Ewan ignored her and leaned over the bar. “Cade! Get them down here.” Cade started to reply, but a barked “ _ Now! _ ” from Ewan had him scrambling.

Tempie grabbed her father-in-law’s arm and turned him towards her. “What. The. Hell. Ewan.” she said very slowly.

“The Inquisition got the blockade lifted,” Ewan said shortly, “by getting the void-brained Tantervale Chancellor to cancel all previous contracts and hire the Shiral guild exclusively.”

Tempie’s eyes bugged. “ _ The elven guild? _ ” she yelped. 

“Listen, Tempie,” Ewan said urgently. “Go to your rooms. Gather everything of value and get it packed. A lot of people are very, very angry that we've supported the Inquisition, and we may have to leave quickly. I’ll have Terry prepare the cart.”

“But-”

“No buts, Tempie. Go.”

Tempie swallowed hard and nodded. With a grimace of pain, she slowly made her way towards the kitchen.

The Chargers who were present looked to Krem, who hesitated only a moment.

“Twitch, Stitches, stick with Tempie. Siren, get the Chief. Double time. Tell him the natives turned hostile, we need to evacuate the target.” He turned to Ewan. “Grim here can help with whatever needs doing. He won’t talk back, so don’t wait around for confirmation of orders received. I’ll be at the door, watching for the Chief or Trouble, whichever shows first.”

“Twitch!” Krem called as they scattered to follow orders. “You make sure she doesn’t lose you.”

“Won’t work on her,” Twitch called back. “I’ll have to stick to her heels instead, no promises.”

“I hear you,” Krem replied with a nod, and then pushed out the door, pulling his shield over his shoulder and loosening his sword in its scabbard as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual conversation after half_aelie read this on his way to bed:  
> Me: We’re basically a war table mission gone wrong.  
> half_aelie: should have sent someone else!  
> Me: (sarcastically) yeah, Cullen.  
> half_aelie: “Dear Pompous Ass - No. Signed, Cullen.” Yeah, that would have worked.


	10. A Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As my dad would say (at 5AM on school mornings):
> 
> It's time... to GOOOOOOOOO.

Twitch caught up with Tempie in the back office. She was going through a box of papers, grabbing some and tossing others onto the desk. The solar charger lay just beneath the pile of refused papers.

“Do you want me to help?” Twitch asked, frozen by the door with indecision. It would be faster to help, but he was hesitant to rifle through a relative stranger’s belongings. “I know how not to drop electronics and I promise I won’t break anything.”

Tempie looked up, startled. “Oh. Uh… yeah. Just uh….” she rifled through some more papers, “just give me a sec.”

“We don’t really have much time,” Twitch countered, stepping into the room and lifting the solar charger out from it’s coverings. Tempie glared at him in annoyance as Twitch tugged off his shirt and put the panel back in the place it had travelled to Minater Hollow, strapping it carefully around his chest. 

Tempie grumbled under her breath about overreactions and how stupid this entire thing was because she’d just have to put everything back later. After a moment, she stood up with a huff, grabbed the papers she’d chosen,then pushed past Twitch. She headed even further into the building, finally pushing through a door into  a surprisingly well-lit and relatively smokeless kitchen. 

“Nicola!” Tempie barked. A middle-aged woman stirring a large pot on the stove looked up. “Get home. Aidan will explain.”

“But the-” Nicola began.

“Just leave it,” Tempie snapped. Nicola took the pot off the heat and walked out, giving Tempie a concerned look as she left. Bevo, meanwhile, had put down the jar of flour he had been measuring from and began rinsing his hands from a bucket by the door.

“What’s wrong?” he rumbled in Qunlat.Twitch was surprised to note that his voice was even deeper than the Chief’s with what could be described as an almost Scottish brogue.

“Ask them,” Tempie sneered, jerking her head back to indicate Twitch and Stitches. She headed for the locked chests on the far side of the kitchen, fumbling to retrieve a key one-handed. By the time she reached the chests, she hadn’t gotten the key she wanted, so she slammed the papers in her hand on top of the chest with a grumble. She opened the first chest and began to pull out small wooden boxes with tiny latches on them. Each was labeled with the name of a spice, such as saffron, mace, cloves, and sugar.

When she was sure she had all of the truly valuable spices, she upended the nearest sack of potatoes and tossed in the boxes. She tied the top and started to throw it over her shoulder when a large grey hand took it from her.

“Cade said you’re not to carry anything,” Bevo said in Common.

“I’m not a fucking invalid!” Tempie snapped back in English, trying to take the sack back. Bevo took a step back, raising his hands defensively. She whirled around and started towards the pub again, pausing only by the ovens to grab what looked to be an oven thermometer. 

As he turned to follow her, Twitch saw what was definitely a fancy pair of scissors from Earth. “Tempie!” he said, grabbing them. She turned around with an irritated huff. He held them up. 

“The plastic handle gives it away. We can’t leave these here. If you don’t want them, Gwen can find six people who would sell their souls for them.”

Tempie huffed indignantly, and snatched the scissors from his hands. Without a word,she shoved them in the sack.

“Do you have more?” Twitch asked as she headed towards the door. “Better to have and not need, than need and not have.”

“My suitcases and backpack are in my room,” she said as she headed straight out the kitchen door and opened the door to her immediate right. It led outside, opening underneath the covered staircase leading to the guest rooms above the pub. Darkness had fallen in the time they had spent indoors. The cobbled courtyard was torchlit as merchants who had been staying at the inn packed their goods in a near panic. There was a lot of noise and smell from the various animals being harnessed and saddled. The staircase above them rattled with servants racing up and down the stairs. Tempie hesitated for a moment at the rush of activity, then plowed forward in determination. Twitch, Bevo, and Stitches followed her to the wagon being loaded by Cade, Grim, and a couple of others. 

“Cade!” Tempie called, holding out the sack of spices to be loaded. He hauled them up, then jumped off the wagon. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said without preamble, “and no, you can’t stay here.”

“But-”

“Tempie, please, listen,” Cade said, putting his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “I’m going with Da to the Alienage to calm things down.”

“You can’t-”

“Temp.  _ Listen _ . I need to know that you and little one are safe. Here is not safe. Get the bag of gold, get on this wagon, and  _ get out _ .”

“Cade-”

“Promise me.” He stared intensely at her, mentally willing her to agree.

Tempie sighed, her shoulders slumped. “Alright. Fine. I’ll be on the wagon.”

Cade gave her a quick kiss and turned to Bevo. “Take care of her?” he asked.

“Of course,” the Qunari said. Cade flashed a quick smile.

“Get moving,” he said. With another quick kiss to the forehead, he was off. He, his father, and his brothers slipped out of the gate, which was firmly shut and locked up as soon as they were out. Tempie stared at the gate for a few moments, shook her head and turned to Bevo. 

“You know the weird things I brought with me in the kitchen?” she asked. Bevo nodded. “Can you go get them?” He hesitated, looking to Twitch and Stitches.

“Go,” Twitch agreed. “Hurry back, though, we’re running out of time.”

Tempie started towards the opposite end of the courtyard. She was only able to get about halfway up the stairs to the family area before she had to pause to catch her breath.

“You alright?” Stitches asked immediately, putting a hand under her elbow.

Tempie, panting, nodded. “Just some cramping,” she said, putting a supporting hand beneath her bump. 

“Cramping?” Twitch repeated, incredulously. “You’re ready to pop, it’s not  _ just some cramping _ .”

“The kid’s right,” Stitched agreed, nodding his head. “We’ve got to get you someplace calm and controlled, make sure this all doesn’t put you into labor.”

“I’ll go get what’s left,” Twitch offered, halfway turning to match action to word.

Tempie shook her head vigorously. “You don’t know what to get,” she said, starting up the stairs again.

“The fuck you say,” Twitch countered. “I know earth-import from Thedas-made. Everything else is replaceable.” He was hard on her heels as she entered the family’s common room. The fireplace along the far wall was lit, making the sparse furniture in the room barely visible enough to avoid. Tempie grabbed a couple of lamps from a nearby table and handed one each to the Chargers. 

“I can’t bend over to light them,” she explained, quickly moving to the door next to the hearth. She jingled through her keys again, and unlocked the door. Inside was a fairly basic, but comfortable bedroom. There was, of course, a large bed across from the window, some chests, a desk and chair, and a smaller, cloth-covered table in a corner. Tempie pulled out the chair and sat down. She gestured towards the bed. “There’s two suitcases and a backpack under there,” she said, fumbling through her keys again. She found the one she wanted and handed it to Stitches, waving him towards one of the chests. “Velvet bag in the right corner at the bottom. Should have coin in it.”

Stitches and Twitch exchanged a long glance that seemed to contain enough expression changes to fill a conversation, and more than a few accompanying hand gestures. The two men nodded, in apparent agreement, and then turned to Tempie.

“You have exactly one minute to tell me what you need packed, in the broadest of terms,” Twitch told her in a tone that brokered no argument. “This has become a military action and you are no longer in command. Your husband told you to get out - and that’s what you’re going to do. Stitches will take you outside. I will follow with your gear. And if you give me  _ any lip at all _ I will have Bevo haul you out of here like a sack of potatoes.”

Tempie clenched her jaw, rage filling her eyes. She  _ glared _ at Twitch.

“BEVO,” Twitch hollered into the hallway. 

Blood rushed out of Tempie’s face. “My table!” she shouted, lunging for the cloth-covered table. “Bring my table!”

“Sure, whatever,  _ get the fuck out of here _ ,” Twitch said, gesturing for Stitches to assist in removing the seeming hysterical pregnant woman from the  _ supposed to be evacuating _ building.

Tempie had ripped off the cloth and was staring in mute horror at the glass pane. Stitches moved to stand next to her, realizing that under the glass were little pictures of strange people and places. 

“Photographs,” Twitch pronounced carefully. “I get it. I really do get it. Tempie,  _ you have to leave now _ . You’ve got a baby to think about and Gwen is going to beat both our asses if one hair on your head is out of place when she gets here. Do what you promised Cade and  _ go _ .”

Tempie nodded mutely, and allowed Stitches to lead her out of the room, her eyes never leaving the table.

Twitch breathed a sigh of relief as she went, giving a quick look around the room before lifting the glass off the table and quickly shuffling the photographs into a pile. Knowing the place was soon to be ransacked, he didn’t pay much mind to order, grabbing anything that was from earth or written in English and throwing it in the suitcases and backpack from under the bed.

There were sounds in the courtyard, now - shouts and jingling tack. He paused for a moment, heard Bull’s unmistakable rumble cutting through the chaos, and spared another few precious moments in the detritus of Tempie’s new life. 

Confident he’d saved as much as he reasonably could - and hopeful a recovery mission could be launched later, like they’d done in Haven - Twitch shut the door behind him and jogged down to rejoin the Chargers as they evacuated The Three Horseshoes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH OH.


	11. A Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out with the old life...

For some inexplicable reason, Debussy’s  _ Claire de Lune _ played in Tempie’s head as she stood at the top of Sorra’s Hill and watched the life she had built go up in smoke. The fire had started in the Alienage almost as soon as the wagon had cleared the Three Horseshoes’ gate. Stitches and Bevo had been forced to hold Tempie in the wagon when she had realized that the flames were in Cade’s general direction. The rest of the trip had been made in silence. They had been listening too hard for familiar voices in the furious shouting and terrified screams coming from the Alienage. The only words exchanged were between the few Chargers that had accompanied the wagon - the rest had remained behind to find the Bannerman men and to help anyone trying to escape the raging mob. 

The flames had started to lick outside the bounds of the Alienage by the time they had reached the top of Sorra’s Hill and set up camp to wait for the others. Stitches had insisted that Tempie rest rather than help out, but sitting and watching was not an option for her, not with all of the thoughts racing through her head. Had Twitch grabbed everything important? Had the mob moved through the Three? Was everything destroyed? Where was Cade? Was he hurt? Was he dead? What about her friends? What about the rest of the family? Were they being attacked for their relation to her? Why had she been so vocal about supporting the Inquisition? Why had she thought it’d be such a good idea? Why had she insisted speaking out about her distaste for the bargers? Why had they done this? How would this help their cause at all? Would she be able to go back? Would there be anything to go back to?

Tempie jumped as a hand was put on her shoulder. It was Lena, an elven woman who had worked for the Three for nearly five years. She and her human husband Terry had been vilified throughout the town for their relationship, and Tempie and Cade had been the only business in town willing to hire them and rent them lodgings. She and Terry had escaped with Tempie in the wagon from the Three, bringing their toddler son Dan and a bundle of valuables with them.

“You should sit down,” Lena said gently, her eyes avoiding the sight of Minanter Hollow burning.

Tempie looked back at the chaos and shook her head. She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt compelled to watch everything burn. The flames were mesmerizing but ultimately silent from this distance. Behind her, the slowly building ruckus of her husband’s kin and the perpetually moving Chargers gradually pulled her attention away from the glow of Minanter Hollow.

The mercenaries who had come to the Three to meet Tempie were hard at work setting camp, marking out where tents should be pitched, fires should be lit, and guards set. Several others had peeled away from the Chargers’ main group to accompany the wagon of civilians that had evacuated the Three; The ones called Daft, Skinner, and Squirrel took over the watch so the others could concentrate on the heavy lifting. After a while, Squirrel disappeared into the trees, having been sent by Skinner to  _ bring the Chief up _ when the rest of the Chargers came looking for them.

In the middle of the organization Krem was forcing onto the chaos of the night, Tempie’s family and friends were trying to keep out from underfoot. Bevo, his soulbound greatsword recalled from retirement and strapped over his shoulder, was falling easily into rhythm with the Chargers; unsurprising, given he had been Sten and the Chargers had been trained by Ben’Hassrath. Catrina, her mother-in-law, and Marta’s father Gethon had rounded up the children and were keeping them occupied gathering “firewood,” (which was really just any kind of stick the children could find), while Cade’s sister Daisy, five months pregnant, sat in the back of the wagon, staring blankly into the darkness. 

Tempie flinched as another round of cramping started. It had been happening sporadically all night, and she could see that the Chargers’ medic was worried. She had shrugged off his concern. She was mostly sure it wasn’t really labor - after all, the pains had been happening throughout her pregnancy, and these didn’t feel any different. Plus, Catrina had told her only to worry if the pains became steady, which they were not. 

Lena, who had not moved from her side, gently took her elbow. “More pains?” she asked gently.

Tempie waved her off. “I refuse to have this baby until Cade’s here,” she said with determination. Walking generally helped ease the pain, so she started to make a circuit around the camp. Lena annoyingly insisted on accompanying her. They made it around the camp a couple of times before the baby landed a direct shot on her bladder. She was able to wave Lena off as she headed to the edge of the forest. Barely had she started to hike her skirts when there was a rustle above her head. She looked up, but saw nothing.

“‘T’isn’t safe, in the dark,” a voice whispered in her ear.

Tempie  _ shrieked _ and lashed out. There was a laugh, and the elf that Skinner had sent ( _ Squirrel? _ ) dodged the wild punch.

“Best not wander out of the reach of the light,” Squirrel said lightly. “Far nastier things in these woods than mere riots and fire.”

“Jesus fucking- Are you serious?” Tempie shouted, her heart still racing in panic. “What the fuck?”

Squirrel grinned, and it wasn’t a nice grin. “Chief’s on his way back with your men. You’d best change your skirt.” And with that, she vanished back into the dark.

Tempie stood still for a moment, willing her heart back to a more normal rhythm. It was then she noticed that her original errand had been completed, and there was now urine dripping down her legs. Frustration welled up and she let out a small shriek of fury before stomping back to the wagon to clean up.

The rest of the mercenaries arrived soon after, and Tempie was relieved to learn that Cade was with them. He had taken a rock to the forehead, leaving a pretty nasty gash, but not much else. Once things calmed down, though, she learned that not only had Cade’s youngest brother Graham refused to leave, he had actually joined the mob in looting and destroying the Alienage. On top of that, Stan the baker, who was married to Cade’s sister Lenora and a dear friend of Tempie’s, had been found in his shop, killed by looters. Cade’s parents were off to one side, consoling Lenora, ignoring the anxious chatter around them.

“Tempie,” Twitch said, coming to her side when she was done cleaning herself up and had returned to the firelight. He spoke in English so he was sure she felt the gravity of his words. “Stitches is worried about you and the baby. It’s over our heads, and given what happened… well, there’s nobody here who’s going to care if Gwen shows up. The Chief needs to know if you’re safe to move, and so we’re sending for Gwen.”

“Sending for…?”

“Dalish is going to go to sleep. Gwen’s watching for her every night to make report, and frankly we’re late. It shouldn’t take long. We try to give Gwen a wide berth, since nobody knows what would happen if she Stepped into a space that was occupied. The physics are weird. Anyways. We need you to stay away from the fire. It’ll only be a minute. Go stand with your family a bit.”

Thoroughly confused, Tempie waddled over to stand beside Cade, turning immediately to watch what happened at the fire with crossed arms.

“Clear out,” The Iron Bull directed, making waving motions with his hands. The Chargers, knowing full well what was coming, immediately backed away to leave a wide empty space around Dalish. Civilians who had no idea were gently pulled back, confusion clear on their faces. The elf had plucked a vial out of her belt, thumbed off the cap, and tossed back the contents. She chucked the empty glass into the fire and then plopped onto a patch of grass a few feet from the flames, stretching out on her back.

“Need Twitchy to sing you a lullaby?” Squirrel called from somewhere in the back of the crowd. 

Twitch joined in the laughter but raised a middle finger in Squirrel’s general direction.

Dalish, for what it was worth, was already asleep.

“Maker, what I wouldn’t pay for that skill,” Stitches grunted.

“What, dancing with demons?” Meck quipped. “We can go find you a rift, I’m sure they’re not all closed yet.”

“Falling asleep that quick,” Stitches countered. “What are ya, daft?”

“Nah, that’s me!” Daft called from the opposite side of the circle.

The Chargers laughed again, but the sound died as the air next to the fire lit up suddenly, glowing green as if a rift was spawning. The light took the form of a woman, and then seemed to recede until it existed only in her eyes. She was simply outfitted in a well-made if modest brown dress, leather boots peeking out at the hem, and a heavy leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her chestnut hair was plaited into a long braid that hung down her back and her eyes - as the green glow of the Fade vanished - were just as brown as her attire.

She would have seemed unremarkable if she hadn’t just appeared out of thin air.

Twitch cupped his hands around his mouth and called “Ma’s home!”  
  
The sound was echoed by dozens of voices; all the Chargers answered save Dalish, who was still asleep by the fire.

“That was quick,” Bull rumbled as the circle broke and the Chargers got back to work setting up camp and building defenses. 

“You’re late,” she replied. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Things didn’t go according to plan,” Bull admitted with a chuckle. 

The newcomer shrugged, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the low light. “I knew you were arriving today and I was eager for news. Dalish said Tempie was feeling _ crampy _ and honestly I didn’t wait to hear the rest. You’re waiting for me to clear our little mama for travel, yes?”

“You got it, Boss.”

“Gwen,” Twitch called, striding forward. “Come meet Tempie.”

The woman in question was incredibly pale and looked to be having trouble forming thoughts. Behind her, Cade was simply in awe. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Gwen said, the laugh clear in her voice as she, too, spoke in English. “I can pick  _ you _ out of the crowd! Hello, Tempie! How are you feeling?”

Tempie mouth moved as she tried to form words, but nothing came out. 

Gwen stepped towards her and put her arms out in offering of a hug. “You’ve had a rough night, I think?”

Tempie nodded mutely, then threw her arms around Gwen and burst into tears.

Gwen gave her a long hug, patting her gently on the back, before nodding to Cade. Tempie’s husband disengaged his wife from the Herald and Gwen slipped away. She knelt at Dalish’s side and whispered something into the prone elf’s ear. Dalish woke up with a start, and popped to her feet. She followed Gwen back over to Tempie.

Gwen nodded at her, and Dalish put her hands on the back of Tempie’s head. 

“It will be better in the morning, love,” Gwen whispered. Dalish’s hands glowed briefly blue, and Tempie slumped over in Cade’s arms, asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting near the end of this little episode!


End file.
